


34th & Vine

by laudatenium



Category: Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BUT tony’s acting the same as usual???, Basically tony gets given a love potion so he’ll act the fool in front of his crush, Bc it’s from steve’s perspective that’s why, Domestic Avengers, First Time, Gen, Love Confessions, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, No sex or anything happens under the influence don’t worry, Steve does that overthinking thing, Steve feels rly guilty but he wants to know what his competition is, Team as Family, This was supposed to be FUN why is there so much angst, Why could that be, there's also lots of team nonsense and carol&wanda being the cute established couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laudatenium/pseuds/laudatenium
Summary: Tony cancels Wanda’s for-Avengers-purposes-and-emergencies-only debit card.  Wanda wants it back.  Steve agrees to go along with a harebrained scheme to embarrass Tony into giving it back to her.  But.  It backfires.  In a way.





	34th & Vine

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Love Potion Number Nine” by the Searchers. 
> 
> I am kinda overloaded on MCU at the moment, so I tried to beat my writer’s block with random-verse-but-vaugely-comics stuff. I was thinking about love potions and BAM. 
> 
> DUB-CON WARNING: Wanda makes a love potion that is intended to lower Tony’s inhibitions when it comes to the object of his affections. He does not consent to taking the potion. However, nothing sexual or anything else happens while he is under its influence.

“WANDA.”

 

Everyone in the kitchen jumped at Tony’s voice.  Wanda, for her part, smeared Miracle Whip everywhere.  Steve bit his lip and went back to his lunch.

 

Tony was standing in the kitchen doorway in one of his internal-meeting-at-SI-so-no-need-to-show-off-but-still-costs-more-than-your-mortgage-thankyouverymuch business suits, but his collar was torn open, his tie gone, and his hair was falling in his eyes.  He was clutching a pile of papers, which was most unlike him.  Tony usually hissed and swatted whenever Steve tried to give him printouts.

 

Wanda blinked at him while Carol tossed her the paper towels.  “What did I do this time?”

 

“Does anyone happen to know what meeting I was at this morning?” Tony said through gritted teeth.

 

“I don’t have your schedule memorized,” Carol said blithely, cutting her sandwich into four triangles.  “Steve?”

 

Steve tried not to choke on his spinach, pepper, and turkey on rye.  “Um, you were meeting with the Avengers business manager, right?”

 

Tony had not removed his searing gaze from Wanda.  “That’s right.  And can anyone tell me what Kathleen’s job is?”

 

“To manage our business,” Wanda said with a straight face.

 

“Yes,” said Tony with a deadly calm.  “All the boring admin tasks that no one here wants to do.  Like doing your taxes, and paying Damage Control when Hulk decides to redecorate, and keeping an eye on our _expense reports.”_

 

“What about insurance payouts?” Carol interjected, licking her knife clean.  She looked like she was having fun.

 

Tony finally broke eye contact with Wanda to give Carol a withering look.  “There’s a whole department of lawyers.  How come none of you guys ever have any clue about how anything other than punching things with various colored lights works on this team?”

 

“Never mind, Tony,” Steve said hurriedly.  “What did Kathleen want to discuss?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Tony spat.  “Just some . . . _irregularities_ on _someone’s_ Avengers debit card.”  He slammed the pile of papers on the table and sifted through them until he found several he wanted.  He shoved them at Wanda.  “This is your signature, correct?”

 

Whatever it was, Wanda seemed to have caught on.  She looked panicked.  “Tony, I –“

 

Tony ignored her. “Read the highlighted part.”

 

She did, her throat moving like she was having a hard time swallowing.

 

 _“Well?”_ Tony hissed.

 

As Wanda cowered under Tony’s baleful glare, Carol snatched the document of Wanda’s hands and held it so that Steve could read it too.  He recognized the document as the one all Avengers had to sign before they were issued their team debit card.  Tony had insisted, years ago, that everyone who joined the team had one in case of emergency.  Steve remembered arguing with him about it, but to be honest he had been fresh from the ice then and had yet to grasp the concept of credit and debit.  The cards had come in handy many times, and Steve was happy to admit that he had been wrong.

 

The highlighted portion of the contract was the clause explaining the proper usage of the card.  The usual legalese had been dispensed with, leaving a very concise list: emergency expenses incurred as part of serving as an Avenger, routine team expenses such as grocery shopping for the mansion fridge, and other various personal expenses so long as they had Tony’s approval.  The last part was underlined several times and circled in pen in addition to the highlight.

 

The pieces fell together for Steve.  Obviously, Kathleen had found Wanda using her card for unauthorized purchases, and now Tony was, rightfully, pissed.  Because, of course, the cards were another one of the things that Tony gracefully gave the Avengers, the costs eaten entirely by him.  Over the years, Tony had needed to carefully remind new members of the team that the card wasn’t just funny money, and while there was a truly incomprehensible amount in the account, Tony wanted it to be available for emergencies.  If they needed money, they could just ask him directly.  But Wanda had been off-and-on the team for _years_.  She should know the rules.

 

Wanda took a breath.  “Tony, I know that – “

 

 _“Two hundred twenty six thousand dollars_ in the last six months.  Wanda.  On the _emergency expense account._   That is _not acceptable.”_

 

She set her jaw.  “How did it take so long for Kathleen to figure it out?”

 

Tony threw up his hands and finally started yelling.  “She has more than enough on her plate!  And the debit account runs itself.  She checks to make sure the newbies aren’t abusing it, but she doesn’t watch it like a hawk!  She certainly wasn’t expecting someone as seasoned as you to be abusing it!”

 

Steve found it amazing that Carol could speak around her shit-eating grin, but she did.  “What’s Wanda been buying?”

 

“All sorts!”  Tony gestured at the rest of the papers, which Steve now saw were transaction statements.  “Designer clothes, beauty treatments, fancy meals!  _Sex toys_ ,” he growled.  Tony pointed at Carol.  “I’ve been subsidizing your sex life, you’re welcome.”

 

“Tony, I don’t see why this is such a big deal!” Wanda burst out.  “It’s not like you don’t have the money to spare!”

 

“Don’t turn this on me!” Tony fired back.  “It’s an emergency account, Wanda!  What if someone on the team gets caught in a situation where they need fifty thousand fast?  I’m sure they’d be really forgiving if they knew you were buying unauthorized strap-ons with their emergency funds!”

 

“But – but – I’ve never had a regular job!  I don’t have much money!”

 

“You could have _asked_ , Wanda,” Tony told her fiercely.  “I would happily set up a credit card for your personal use.  Steve has one.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Steve mumbled, not wanting to be pulled into the argument.  “I don’t use it much.  I’m not one for shopping.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes fondly.  “ _Please_ take half of my fortune and get something to wear besides cargo khakis and those dumb blue shirts with a star on them.” He turned back to Wanda, his expression hardening.  “But the personal cards all have a _limit_ on them, so I can control your spending.  Not that Steve has ever gone near the ceiling.  I set up the emergency account so that it _doesn’t_ have a limit, because . . . emergencies.”

 

“So . . . give me a personal card, then,” Wanda said.  Quite boldly, in Steve’s opinion.

 

“Not so fast,” Tony said.  “What makes you think I’m just going let this slide?”

 

“Because you love us,” Carol said, her mouth full of ham.

 

Grinding his teeth, Tony ignored Carol.  “Where’s the card, Wanda?”

 

She opened her mouth for a second, obviously wanting to protest.  But seeing the look on Tony’s face, she obediently got up and left the kitchen.  Steve understood her wariness.  It wasn’t often that Tony got like this.

 

Not that Steve could blame him.  For years, Steve had struggled with Tony financing the Avengers.  He paid for everything – food, housing, equipment, suits, transportation, property damage.  Tony had even instituted salaries and health insurance.  And whether Tony was on the team or not, he still funded them.  He said he was happy to do it, but while Steve appreciated his generosity, it was just another thing that he knew he was in Tony’s debt for. 

 

But Steve figured he was the only one who was bothered by it.  He’d heard plenty of complaints over the years, about credit limits and Tony’s unwillingness to install a slide and ballpit in place of the main staircase.  Steve usually tried to quell the grumbling, but it didn’t work.

 

Upon reflection, Steve wondered if his self-consciousness at accepting Tony’s money was part of the reason Tony let him have free range.  He didn’t know what his own credit limit was, but hearing people like Clint complain about maxing it out every other month which always led to Tony lowering the limit even more, it made Steve think his was probably one of the highest.

 

However, Steve was keenly aware of the other ways Tony spent money on him.  Baseball games, priceless antiques, a truly insane about of art supplies.  Steve had learned not to take Tony up on offers to visit art galleries because Tony would get bored and amuse himself by buying every painting Steve took a fancy to.  It was hard to forget that, because the paintings were hung in every corner of the mansion.

 

It was too much, but Steve’s resistance seemed to make Tony all the more determined to waste money on him.

 

 _He just views me as a challenge,_ a familiar voice in his head said, quashing the familiar flutter that arose any time Steve examine the special way Tony treated him.  _There’s no other reason.  You know what happens when you get your hopes up._

 

His bitter musings were interrupted by Wanda’s return.  Her purse was square-ish and boxy, black velvet with glittering embroidery of what looked like Zodiac signs and other vaguely celestial things, with two curved handles and a long shoulder strap.  Tony stared at it for a full ten seconds.

 

“That is current collection Dior,” he said, like it was Exhibit A at a trial.

 

Carol cracked up.  For his part, Steve was pretty sure that Dior was one of those fancy fashion stores where they sold very expensive things for women like Jan and men like Tony.

 

“Tony, please – “ Wanda begged.

 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tony said firmly, striding over to the drawer where they kept the scissors.  “Hand it over.”

 

Carol looked up from where she was flicking through Wanda’s card statements.  With shaking hands, she removed an expensive-looking wallet and handed over the familiar black card.

 

“Not the kitchen scissors, Tony – “ Steve began, but Tony was already cutting the card into pieces, letting them fall to the table.

 

When the last piece hit the table, Tony wagged his finger at her.  _“One month._   You behave for _one month_ and then we can talk about you getting this back.”

 

“But – it’s for emergencies – what if there’s an emergency?!” Wanda spluttered, picking up the plastic shards and holding them together like she could meld them with her mind.  (Maybe she could.  Steve didn’t know.)

 

“Then you should have thought about that before you went on a shopping spree with a company card,” Tony growled.  “One month.  Then I’m going to get notifications for _every_ transaction you make for a while.  And if after this I am stupid enough to let you have a personal card, you _bet_ your ass the limit is going to be lower than what I’d give a high schooler.”  He turned to leave.  “And if you somehow figure out how to repair the card, or try it online, don’t bother.  The account is frozen deeper than Steve was.  If you even open your Amazon wish list, I’ll know,” Tony called over his shoulder as he marched out of the door.

 

Carol looked at Steve.  “Ouch, Steve, ouch.  And sorry babe, but you had to know this was coming.”

 

“What was that all about?  Tony doesn’t usually yell.” Jan chirped happily as she wandered into the kitchen, Sam and Logan trailing her, all three of them wearing their gym gear.  Logan made a beeline for the fridge while Sam plonked himself down next to Steve, grabbing at the bread and sandwich fixings scattered across the table. 

 

Steve shrugged.  “Ask Wanda.”

 

Wanda was still staring at the pieces of her card like it was the corpse of a fallen friend.  “How _could_ he?” she whispered heartbrokenly.

 

“Mom found out she was using the Avengers debit card on unauthorized purchases,” Carol told Jan gleefully.  “So Mom cut it up.”

 

Jan sighed sympathetically.  “Sorry, hon.  My parents had to do the same thing when I was a teenager.”

 

“This is so _unfair,”_ Wanda moaned.  “I am nowhere near the only person who’s done this.  Clint said he’d been testing it for years, buying ridiculous things, and _he_ never got his card taken.”

 

“One time I was undercover in Vegas and I withdrew thousands to gamble with.  I had a whole story about only doing it to keep my cover, but he never said anything,” Sam said unhelpfully.  Wanda glared at him, but Sam only had eyes for his lunch.

 

“Wanda,” Steve said in a careful tone.  She threw back her head and groaned, but he continued.  “This wasn’t unfair.  It’s actually very lenient.  You violated a contract.  He could sue you easily, and he’d have the grounds.  It’s embezzlement and there could be criminal charges.  He didn’t even say you had to return everything, or pay him back.  He’s letting you off easy.”

 

“Mom took your card away, and Dad is lecturing you on how Mom is right to punish you,” Carol sniggered.  Steve ignored her.

 

“Cap’s right, though,” Logan belched as he finished off one bottle of beer and carried an armful back to the table, ignoring the food.  “Stark’s got lawyers out the ass.  Never try to sue a rich asshole,” he said sagely.

 

Wanda stared at Jan.  “How do I get my card back?”

 

Jan shrugged, pulling a cutting board covered in tomatoes and cucumbers toward her.  “Don’t know.  Not sure if you should even try.  I know Tony can be a pushover, but it’s not like you can sit in his lap and call him ‘Daddy.’  That worked for me, but it’s different when it’s not actually your father.”

 

“Cap’s the only one who could get away with it,” Logan grunted.

 

“Now _that’s_ true,” agreed Sam as he layered the last of the cheddar on his bread.

 

“Come on,” Steve said as everyone else laughed.  “Tony doesn’t watch me closely because he _trusts_ me.”

 

That shut everyone up.  But Wanda perked up.  “Steve.  _You_ could get Tony to give me my card back.”

 

Steve shifted uneasily.  “Now even if that was true – “ he overrode the chorus of protests “ – why would you think I would?  This might be good for you, Wanda.”

 

Carol patted her on the back soothingly.  “I’ll be your sugar momma, babe, don’t worry.”

 

Wanda ignored her girlfriend.  “I’ll get him,” she muttered vaguely, standing up and striding over to the spice cabinet.

 

“What are you _doing?”_ Jan called as Wanda filled a saucepan with water and turned on the fire.  “You’re not going poison him with your cooking?”

 

“Come on, her goulash isn’t bad,” Carol said.

 

“You have to say that.  You’re sleeping with her,” Logan told her as flicked a beer cap across the table.

 

Carol caught it easily.  “Whatever keeps me warm at night.  Babe, what _are_ you doing?”

 

“Potion,” Wanda said deliriously, tossing random herbs into the pot.

 

 _“What?”_   Everyone leapt from the table, many still clutching their sandwiches, and crowded around Wanda at the stove.  She was stirring feverishly, creating a little whirlpool.  Instead of a bunch of herbs swirling in clear water, the liquid had taken on a milky, pearlescent quality.  As they watched, she sprinkled in some cayenne pepper, and the liquid immediately became more opaque.

 

“What’s the plan?” Jan asked in a hushed voice.

 

“Not waiting a month,” Wanda muttered.  “Going to make sure he gives it back tomorrow.  _Tonight.”_

 

“Babe, you’re not making sense,” Carol said patiently. 

 

Wanda stilled, the swirling liquid now the color and opacity of milk, but still glinting faintly.  “Tony is always more generous in love,” she said.  “He likes to show off.  Not just to the object of his affections, but to everyone.”

 

“You’re going to make Tony a _love potion_ to he falls in love with you can gives your card back?” Sam asked, obviously delighted.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  Wanda seemed back to herself for the moment.  “This will not be so crude as to make him smitten with the first person he sees, or make him fall for a specific person.  No, this will simply remove his inhibitions toward the person he actually loves.”

 

Logan frowned, his eyes darting toward Steve.  “Do you know who he’s in love with?”

 

Wanda shrugged.  “No, but a hopeless romantic like Tony?  He’s _always_ in love with somebody.  Sometimes he has crushes on multiple people.  What this will do is make him seek out the object of his affections, and he will be unable to restrain himself from doing every little thing he can think of to win their favor.”

 

Sam looked dubious.  “How will this get your debit card back?”

 

“One of two ways.  First, in a fit of generosity, he gives it back to me to demonstrate how forgiving he is.  Or, once it wears off,” she grinned evilly.  “He’ll be too embarrassed to face me.”

 

“How are you going to get him to drink it?” Carol asked, her mouth again full of sandwich.

 

“Steve.”  Everyone looked at him.  “I’m going to pour it in his coffee when you bring him his lunch.  He won’t suspect Steve.”

 

“I wasn’t planning – “ but Steve’s protests had already died in this throat.  He had already been scoping out the leftover of their cold cuts, wondering what he should prepare.  If Tony was in a mood, he was going to be down in his workshop, brooding over something mechanical for about forty hours before he sought sustenance.  “I’m not giving him anything laced with your stupid love potion, Wanda.  That’s . . . tantamount to drugging him.  It _is_ drugging him.  I’m not helping, and you can bet I’ll head him off before you can slip it to him.”

 

“Come _on,_ Steve,” Wanda whined.  “It won’t trigger a relapse or anything.  It won’t do anything but make him act like the love-struck fool he really wants to be.  Plus,” she eyed him innocently.  “Don’t you want to know who Tony has a crush on?”

 

“I –“ but the rest of the words wouldn’t come out.  Everyone else was grinning and elbowing each other. 

 

“A prank.  A harmless prank,” Wanda declared.

 

“It’s like ‘Love Potion Number Nine’,” Jan gasped, then began to sing idly.  _“I took my troubles down to Madam Ruth, you know that –“_

 

“Whatever you do, don’t finish that,” Wanda said sharply.

 

“Sorry!” Jan squeaked.  “Oh, Wanda, I never thought – _so many_ songs say the G – word!”

 

“Yeah, I had noticed,” Wanda muttered, going back to stirring the contents of the pot, which were slowly turning grey.

 

“Wait.”  Steve held up a hand.  “I get the whole . . . wanting to make Tony act ridiculous in front of his crush or whatever.  _Not that I agree._   But.  Wanda.  You have _chaos magic._   Why do you have to make an actual love potion?”

 

Wanda didn’t pause as she stirred the saucepan, her eyes far off and glowing slightly.  “Aesthetic.”

 

 

 

It was ready finally.  The potion, which was now black like India ink, was poured into the steaming kitty cat mug full of coffee.  (Carol had called it “A whole new take on the phrase ‘black coffee’” and had laughed at her own joke for two minutes straight).  To assuage himself and to make Tony less suspicious (because of course he had a sentient coffee maker in the workshop), Steve had prepped a salad using some grilled chicken strips and the leftover veggies from lunch.

 

“All he needs is a sip,” Wanda had instructed.

 

Despite arming himself with coffee and food, Steve still felt sick to his stomach.  No one else seemed to be bothered by fact that they were plotting to secretly give Tony an unknown substance that would alter his behavior.  Jan, Logan, and Carol had been discussing some sort of long-standing bet in low voices, but they didn’t let Steve listen in. 

 

Why was it that they were making _him_ do this, when he was the least willing participant?

 

But Steve knew, deep down, that they knew he was going to be a secondary object of mockery in this.  Because Steve _had_ agreed, like Wanda had known he would, because he _had_ to know.  While Wanda was of the single-minded determination that this ridiculous scheme would get her card re-authorized, the others we in this for their own twofold amusement: seeing Tony act ridiculous for the object of his affection, and seeing Steve’s reaction to _not_ being said object.

 

It was a well-known fact that Steve was in love with Tony.  Everyone, except maybe Tony himself, was well aware of the flame that Steve had carried practically from the day he’d been unfrozen.  It didn’t bother Steve very much; he had long ago resigned himself to loving Tony from a distance.  No matter how much he ached for something more, Tony was far more important to him than his own romantic frustrations toward the man.  Steve had accepted that loving Tony from his role as a best friend was all that could happen, and he was happy that he at least had that.

 

He couldn’t understand how other people could walk away when it became clear that their love was completely one-sided.  It was selfish to think that a person only deserved to be loved when it was on the other person’s terms.  What was unbearable to Steve was the thought of walking away, of losing the friendship that was at the very center of his life.  The pain of unrequited love was nothing to the agony of losing Tony forever.

 

So Steve kept the flame burning, but he wasn’t governed by it.  He’d dated, more or less successfully.  He had other friends in his life.  But Tony’s friendship was always something special, something that Steve guarded fiercely.  They’d been through the gamut together, they’d come to near lethal blows, but they were still here, still the best of friends.  Steve was always jealous, whenever Tony kisses some lady’s hand at a function or maintained a long-term significant other.

 

All the boyfriends and girlfriends had come and gone.  But Steve was still here, and that had to be enough.

 

It _had_ to be.

 

Yet despite all his resignation, all his healthy distance, Steve was still at his core a masochist, and never more so than when it came to Tony Stark.  The concerns about breaching Tony’s consent ever-so-slightly were overridden by the tantalizing offer of a glimpse into Tony’s heart.

 

The door took his code and slid open, playing a couple bars of “Over There” as he walked over the threshold.  Tony was hunched over a workbench, welding goggles strapped onto his head as the threw arcs of bright blue as he moved the blowtorch with practiced hands.  With dull ache, Steve noted how Tony had changed from his business suit into his typical grimy work clothes – grease-streaked jeans and a shirt peppered with burn holes.  He was straddling his chair backwards, thighs splayed around the low leather-covered backrest, just touching the floor with his curled toes and pants riding dangerously low.  “Steve.  Did Wanda send you to beg on her behalf?”

 

“Not beg, no,” Steve said carefully, carrying the bowl and mug over to him.  Fastidiously ignoring how much skin he could see of Tony’s lower back, he placed them at Tony’s elbow.  “Lunch.  You need to eat.  And out of curiosity, if I asked, would you give it back?”

 

The glaring light and hissing from the blowtorch died as Tony flicked it off.  He pushed the goggles up his forehead, grinning lopsidedly and revealing the faint boarder of ash around his eyes.  “No, because you wouldn’t.  Wanda needs to get her spending under control, you agree with me.  You were defending me after I left, weren’t you?”  He laughed at Steve’s expression, and picked up his fork.  “Always trying to get me to eat my vegetables.”  Tony didn’t wait for his response as he speared a cherry tomato and a piece of chicken, and shoved them in his mouth.

 

“I put that raspberry vinaigrette that you like on it,” Steve told in mildly, leaning against the worktable, eyeing the machine thing Tony had been poring over.  “What are you working on?”

 

“Hmmm?  Oh, it’s a temporal . . . I don’t really know what it is yet.  It’s going to be a surprise.”  Tony shoved more salad in his mouth.  Steve gazed at the untouched coffee cup, stomach in knots.

 

_Not too late to snatch it back and pour it down the drain._

 

But as he though this, Tony picked up the mug.  “What’s going on with this?” he asked and eyed the coffee in earnest.  “Didn’t poison it, did you?”  Without waiting for an answer, he took a sip.

 

The churning feeling on Steve’s innards switched from feeling like standing on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry to something more like being thrown in the patch of sea at the eye of a hurricane.

 

But Tony didn’t seem to taste anything different.  He drew back and smacked his lips.  “Coffee always tastes the best from a kitty mug hand-delivered by Captain America.”  Then he gave Steve one of those special smiles, that Steve-only smile.  The one that was the worst, because it got his hopes up, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up.  “Something eating you, Steve?”

 

“Nothing,” Steve said, instead of screaming that he was betraying Tony’s trust and violating Tony’s innermost emotions out of desperate curiosity.  “Are we still doing movie night later?”

 

“Mmmmhmm,” Tony agreed.  Then he drew back.  “If everyone else wants to start early, you can queue it up.  I’m not really feeling this right now.”  He gestured at his project.

 

“Oh?  You – you want to spend some time with the team?”  Wanda had said Tony would seek out whoever it was he had feelings for.  If he wanted to spend time with the Avengers, that must have meant that whoever it was . . . .

 

“Well, don’t tell them, but you’ll always be my favorite.”  Tony raised the mug as if to toast Steve, flashing that beaming smile before draining the last of it.  Steve took back the empty dishes, his hands shaking.  Tony stood and stretched, showing the lines of his stomach.  “I’ll be up in a jiff.  Just give me a sec to put some deodorant on.”  He sniffed his shirt.  “Or maybe a quick shower.”

 

 

 

“So?  He drank it?” Wanda asked anxiously as Steve returned to the kitchen. 

 

Steve nodded mutely as he returned the dishes to the sink.  Usually, he would wash them immediately before putting them away, but he worried he might accidentally shatter them in his preoccupation.  “He asked if we wanted to start movie night early.”

 

Wanda’s face fell.  “He didn’t say he wanted to spend time with anyone in particular?”  Steve shook his head, deciding to omit the part where Tony had said that _Steve_ was his favorite.  Because that was what Tony _always_ said.  It wasn’t because of Wanda’s stupid love potion.

 

“Hey!” Sam called from the corner, where he was already digging the popcorn and bowls out.  “That must mean it’s _someone_ on the team.”

 

Jan clapped excitedly.  “It must!  Oh, let’s do some romantic movies tonight!  Set the mood.”  She made eye contact with Carol, and they both dissolved into giggles.

 

“I vote for The Notebook,” Logan said over his shoulder as he retrieved more beer.

 

“What do you want, Steve?” Carol called.

 

“The Music Man,” he mumbled.  He heard a chorus of agreement.

 

“That first, then,” Jan declared.

 

 

 

The DVD menu screen was up and there were popcorn bowls everywhere by the time Tony entered the room a few minutes later.  His hair was wet from the shower and he was wearing sweatpants and no shirt, RT node glowing softly.

 

“Stark.  Put on a shirt, will you?  That thing’s worse than pulling out your phone in the middle of the movie,” Logan yawned.

 

Tony stuck his tongue out, picking up a random hoodie from the back of one of the couches.  Steve realized with a jolt that is was one of his own.  He barely had time to wonder if Tony would try sitting next to his crush before Tony was plopping himself down in his usual spot next to Steve and groping for the popcorn bowl.  “Start it up.”

 

As the team watched Robert Preston bamboozle the people of River City and accidentally fall in love with Shirley Jones, Steve tried to keep from watching Tony and failed.  He wasn’t the only one.  On the other side of the curved couch, Carol and Wanda were snuggled up under a pile of blankets, but Wanda was staring unblinkingly at Tony, as if willing him to bend over and present himself to his secret beloved.

 

But Tony didn’t seem any different.  He was acting completely normally.  For Tony, at least.  Ridiculing the characters’ life choices and singing along softly, adding a fifth harmony to the Buffalo Bills.  As Marion told Winthrop that she believed everything that Hill had ever said, Tony elbowed Steve and said “See?  There’s hope for us old frauds, huh?” then stole the bowl to search the kernels for the last bits of popcorn and to hide his tears.

 

Once they’d finished the first movie, Logan insisted on The Notebook.  Seeing as Logan made them watch it every single movie night, Steve volunteered to refill the popcorn bowls.  Wanda joined him in the kitchen. 

 

“Are you _sure_ it’s working?” Steve hissed as he placed a fresh bag in the microwave.

 

“It is!  It just . . . doesn’t seem to having any effect,” Wanda muttered fretfully.

 

Sam poked his head in as he was coming back from the bathroom.  “So what’s up?  Why isn’t Tony . . . behaving like a love-struck idiot?”

 

Wanda shrugged helplessly, pacing as Steve poured fresh popcorn into their bowls.

 

Sam frowned, and asked uncertainly, “ Could it have – I don’t know – worn off?  How long did you make it effective for?  Until midnight?”

 

“It’s _magic,”_ Wanda said, wringing her hands.  “There’s no defined timeframe.  All that ‘until midnight’ stuff is from fairy tales.  Magic wares off in its own time, depending on the person and the situation.  But it’s still in his system, I can feel it.  It’s just not –“

 

“Doing anything,” Steve finished, more harshly than he would have liked.

 

“Well . . . not necessarily.  The only possible explanation is that . . . his normal behavior _is_ him acting like a smitten, love struck fool.”

 

“But he’s not seeking out anyone in particular?  What could that mean?” Steve asked through gritted teeth.

 

Sam and Wanda shared a look.  “Maybe . . . he’s too deep in denial?  If he’s used to fighting the urge to try to spend time with his beloved?” Wanda said tentatively.

 

“Or the person _is_ on the team.  And Tony is using movie night as a cover.  He wanted to start it early.”  Sam had a point.  The sun was barely setting even now.

 

“Yes, but . . . “ Wanda gestured vaguely in the air.  “He’s just . . . sitting next to Steve and being his normal idiot self.”  She clutched her throat.  “Is the universe punishing me?  For spending Tony’s money then drugging him?”

 

Sam looked at Steve.  “Should I get Carol?”

 

“Probably better.”  Sam carried half of the popcorn bowls back to the lounge as Steve helped Wanda into a chair.  She was still clutching her throat and rocking slightly.

 

“I wondered . . . maybe . . . cause it’s always seemed like he . . . but no . . . .”

 

Carol strode in, her posture more military than usual.  “Babe,” she said in what Tony and Sam always called her “dom voice.”  “It’s alright.”

 

“But it’s not working . . .” Wanda muttered despondently as Carol gathered her into her lap.  Carol tenderly rubbed Wanda’s back and pressed soft kisses to her neck.  Steve turned away and ripped open one of the popcorn bags a little too violently, swallowing a sudden wave of bitterness.  It wasn’t Wanda and Carol’s fault that they had found each other and Steve was reduced to helping someone give Tony a love potion just to find out who Tony might have a crush on.

 

“Wait.  Wanda.”  She looked up blearily.  “Could it be possible that . . . Tony’s _not_ in love with anyone?”

 

She bit her lip.  “It’s . . . possible.  The level of his reaction would be directly inflicted by how enamored he is.  I assumed he was, but if he’s _not_ in love . . . or it’s not very deep . . . .”  She continued muttering.

 

Carol pulled her a little closer.  “You can head back, Steve.  I’d like a minute.”

 

So Steve gathered up the last of the popcorn bowls and delivered them to the rest of the team.  Logan was lying on his stomach, chin in hands and ankles crossed in midair as he gazed at Ryan Gosling’s face.  Tony accepted their bowl.

 

“Wanda okay?” he whispered.

 

“I hope so.  She’s a bit emotional today.”

 

“I shouldn’t have cut up her card like that.  I should have sat her down and talked to her like the adult she is,” Tony muttered mournfully.  “I feel guilty now.”

 

 _Well, that makes three of us_ , Steve though as Tony turned back to the movie. 

 

Wanda and Carol returned a few minutes later, Carol carrying Wanda, who was smiling serenely with her legs wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist.  Whatever Carol had told Wanda had obviously done the trick, because she seemed much better.  She went back to watching Tony instead of the movie, but every now and then Steve felt her eyes flick over to him as well.

 

They watched another two movies that Steve barely registered.  But before long the credits were rolling on the final movie and it was almost midnight.  Jan leapt from her beanbag and clapped her hands in an authoritative way.

 

“I’m feeling . . . pancakes,” she declared.  “Let’s go get dinner.”

 

 “Lonnie’s,” Tony volunteered, and was met with a chorus of agreement.

 

 

 

Two blocks away from the mansion, tucked away beneath a shabby reality office, was Lonnie’s.  It was a complete hole in the wall, the greasiest of greasy spoons.  The night Steve had first moved into the mansion, he’d been reeling and desolate.  Tony (this of course before everyone had learned he was also Iron Man) had found him at one in the morning, standing on the widow’s walk, staring out at Central Park.  Tony had taken him to Lonnie’s.  It had been one of Tony’s favorite late-night haunts (Jarvis had taken him for milkshakes when he’d been little), and it was his attempt to make Steve feel better.  Tony hadn’t known that Steve had visited the place a few times, before the war and Captain America and the death of that life he thought he might have. 

 

It had immediately become an Avengers tradition.

 

Lonnie’s was open twenty-four hours and the waitresses never asked questions or complained when they tracked in dust and monster mucus, so long as they tipped well (which of course they always did).  It was one of those places that served breakfast, lunch, and dinner at all hours, had a mirrored case with rubber pies and cakes on display, and was the perfect place to mourn or celebrate, depending on the need.

 

They walked like they always did, a ragged group drifting down the sidewalk.  Tony fell into step beside Steve, which normally Steve would have expected, as that’s what always happened.  Steve and Tony, Cap and Iron Man, Winghead and Shellhead, Dad and Mom walking side by side as their children tried to vault trashcans and scale utility poles.

 

Except Tony was supposed to be courting the person he was in love with.  Not hanging out with Steve.

 

“You alright?  You seem quiet tonight,” Tony told him as they trailed the others down the street.

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Well, you didn’t seem that excited when I suggested Lonnie’s, and you’re always the first to jump at the opportunity.”

 

Steve couldn’t hold back a grimace, because it was true.  He wasn’t excited.  Because while the diner was an Avengers tradition, that was because it was _Steve &Tony’splace_.  How many times had they walked this same path, shoulder to shoulder, just enough space to keep things platonic and sometimes not even that?  How many times had they sat at _their_ booth, Steve eating plate after plate of fried eggs and toast as Tony drained the copper coffeepot?  How many times had they fought each other, or Tony had been desperate for a drink, or Steve had felt like he would drown from all the loss he’d dealt with, and one would knock on the other’s doorjamb and ask if they wanted to go out for a bite?  Lonnie’s was where they went when they wanted to cheer the other up, or needed to forget whatever was eating them alive, or when they just needed a friend to help get through the night.

 

It was a liminal sort of place, and many of the boundaries of society seemed to weaken within its walls.  There you could be more vulnerable than you normally were, you could bare your entire soul, but no one would judge you.  It was a place of peace and recovery and family, and it was one of the best places in the universe.

 

It was over the faded Formica countertop that Steve had fallen in love with Tony.  He’d developed a crush fighting side by side, he’d felt the twinges of something more in the gym and the lounge and the kitchen.  But sitting across from Tony as he nodded off over his BLT, listening to him worry aloud about the team and the company and his sobriety, fingers brushing as they both grabbed for the coffeepot, seeing that special smile, that Steve-only smile, when Tony stole Steve’s fries and Steve would let him . . . that was what had sealed his fate.

 

And they were headed there now, and Tony was under the influence of a love potion that Steve had helped give him, and maybe Steve would find out who Tony was in love with in the very place that Steve had fallen for him.

 

“Just . . . I have things on my mind,” Steve said with a shrug.

 

“Don’t we all,” Tony murmured in agreement.

 

Fatima was working tonight, so the seven of them crowed into their usual two booths.  Steve sat in his spot, and Tony slid in across from him, and to his surprise Carol sat next to Steve and Wanda sat next to Tony.

 

“Why aren’t you two sitting in each other’s laps?” Tony asked as Fatima delivered the coffeepot and cups.  He grabbed the pot and filled Steve’s cup before his own.

 

“Maybe you need babysitting,” Carol said as she held out her own cup for Tony to fill. 

 

“Maybe I want my card back,” Wanda told him as Fatima brought her lemonade.

 

“Listen, Wanda, we need to talk about that,” Tony said in an undertone.  “I’m sorry I flipped out like that.  I shouldn’t have.  I just got a little . . . .”  He trailed off.

 

Something thunked under the table and Wanda winced and shot Carol a look, before sighing and turning back to Tony.  “You had every right to be upset.  I was spending your money that you very generously give to the team, and I abused it.  I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”  She sounded like she was reading from cue cards.

 

“I’ll get you unfrozen in the morning.  But I’m putting a five thousand per month limit on the personal card, and you better make sure you don’t mix them up,” was Tony’s predictable response.  But Wanda’s smile glowed softly like she knew what he’d meant by it.

 

“I really am sorry, Tony,” she said in a more normal voice.  “I just . . . we never had much when I was growing up, and now I live in a mansion with a billionaire and I had access to pretty much unlimited funds and I . . . went a little crazy.  You’ve always had access to the nicest of things, I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but . . . I’m still sorry.  I can try and return things, or try and pay you back . . . .”

 

“Don’t bother,” Tony reached out and gave her a side hug, which she returned warmly.  “I’m not mad about the money, I have way too much.  But behavior like that . . . you can understand why I get twitchy when somebody I care about shows signs that they might be developing . . . unhealthy habits.  And I haven’t _always_ had access to the nicest things.”  He tapped a finger in the glowing center of his chest.

 

Then they chatted like normal, about everything and nothing.  As Logan lost himself in his pancakes, Sam and Jan turned around in their booth and hung over Steve and Carols’ shoulders.  Everyone stole fries and bacon and toast from one another and they laughed with their mouths open, bits of egg flying everywhere.  Tony’s knee rested against Steve’s as it always did, and Steve almost forgot to be guilty about slipping Tony the love potion.

 

But it didn’t last.  Tony asked Fatima to get his and Steve’s usual pecan pie before heading to the restroom, and in his wake the room seemed to cool ten degrees as everyone got serious. 

 

“So?” Sam hissed, his eyes on the bathroom door as it swung shut.  “It’s been _hours_ , Wanda.  When’s Tony going to break?”

 

“I think you might not be reading the situation properly,” Wanda answered primly, tearing a stray piece of lettuce to shreds.

 

Jan patted Sam’s shoulder.  “Tony’s confirmed a hell of a lot for me today, don’t worry.”

 

Steve waited for Fatima to put down their pie before launching in.  “I don’t know what you guys are seeing –“ Logan snorted. “ – but Tony seems the same to me!”

 

“Steve – “ Carol started.

 

“Don’t ‘Steve’ me!  You were all for Wanda’s little experiment, and you all made me deliver it to him!  Even though I didn’t want to, even though it was a huge betrayal of his trust!”

 

“We didn’t force you – “ Jan began.

 

“Yes, you did!” Steve shouted, almost hysterically.  “You all thought it would be a riot, slipping Tony a love potion.  And you got _me_ to agree to it by – “ he didn’t pay attention to Wanda’s sudden frantic shushing “ – manipulating me with how an opportunity to see who he has feelings for!  Because it’s funny to you all, isn’t it?  The fact that I’ve been in love with him for years and he couldn’t give a _damn._ ”

 

There was silence for a long moment.  Then Tony’s voice called, “So you did poison my coffee.”

 

Steve whipped around, and Tony was standing there, the sleeves of Steve’s hoodie pushed up to his elbows and hands dripping because Tony hated the old hand dryers.  His eyes were clear, calm, resolved.  He didn’t look angry, not like he did that morning.  But Steve knew that sometimes Tony took a minute to get really angry.  Especially when it was something that really angered him.

 

Carol leapt out of the way as Steve exited the booth.  He only took a moment to fish all the cash he had out of his wallet and toss it on the table for Fatima.  Then he brushed past still-frozen Tony and headed out into the night.

 

 

 

Steve didn’t know how long he walked.  Aimlessly.  He was pretty sure he stayed in Manhattan, because he didn’t cross any bridges, but he didn’t know much more than that.

 

So.  It had finally happened.  Steve had burst out that he was in love with Tony in front of the man himself.  He’d always wondered when it would happen.  Possibly after being fatally wounded in battle, with Tony leaning over him, declaring that they could save him, Steve would grab Tony’s hand and use his last breath to tell him.  Or maybe they would be in one of their legendary fights, and Steve would scream it at the top of his lungs in an effort to make Tony _see_ that Steve was only trying to look out for him.  Or they’d be sitting on the couch and Tony’s sleepy head would drift down onto Steve’s shoulder, and Steve wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from kissing Tony’s forehead.  Or he’d just walk up to Tony as he worked in his lab and would just kiss the living daylights out of him.  Or they’d be in their booth at Lonnie’s, and Tony would be in a particularly self-loathing mood, and would ask Steve why the hell he still put up with all Tony’s mess, and Steve would reach across the table and cup Tony’s hand and would just stare into his eyes and say “Because I love you, you moron.”

 

Steve had imagined a million ways in which he told Tony he loved him.  Never would he have thought that it would come out as Steve squabbled with the team over a love potion.

 

What would he do now, he wondered.  He couldn’t very well continue to work on the same team as Tony.  This had been an egregious betrayal of trust, and even if Tony could forgive him for helping the others slip him a magic potion, Tony still had a right to live in his house and work on the team without feeling uncomfortable about Steve’s one-sided feelings.  Steve didn’t have anywhere else to go, really, but he didn’t have the right to kick Tony off the team just because Steve couldn’t get his feelings under control. 

 

No.  This was all Steve’s problem.  Steve was the one who had messed up, so Steve must be the one to face the consequences.

 

It wasn’t like he didn’t have options.  His bank account was largely untouched, due mostly (and Steve’s stomach gave yet another lurch) to Tony’s insistence at picking up the bill for everything.  Steve didn’t think he could stand to be anywhere in New York, so the thought of getting his own place somewhere in the city wasn’t going to pan out, because he nearly had an aneurysm anytime he glanced at the price of rent these days and he didn’t think he could stand being in the same city as Tony and not being able to see him.

 

Tigra and Clint were giving the West Coast Avengers yet another shot, so maybe they’d let him join up.  And Bucky and Nat were out there doing covert ops stuff, and Bucky had always made sure Steve knew that they’d be happy for the help and company if Steve didn’t mind roughing it, which he didn’t.  Really, Steve could have his pick.  Plenty of organizations would bend over backwards to have _Captain America_ on board.

 

What stuck in his craw were all the times Tony had been kicked off various teams, because his own struggles made him “unfit.”

 

Steve wasn’t sure he could do the lone wolf thing nowadays.  He’d done it, but it was never his favorite.  He loved being on a _team,_ a team with Tony if he was being completely honest.  Never did the work make more sense than when Cap and Iron Man were doing their Avengers things together.

 

But that was a luxury Steve didn’t have anymore.  A team without Tony was preferable to no team at all, so that would have to do.  Maybe Steve could try to give Tony some distance and let the wounds heal, then try to resurrect some semblance of their friendship.

 

 _Whoa now.  Don’t go planning your reunion before you’ve even left,_ he told himself.

 

A break would be good.  Steve loved his lonely road trips, just him and his bike and the country that he’d unwittingly come to embody.  He’d resign first thing in the morning, hop on his bike, and go against the flow of traffic through the Holland tunnel.  He’d bring the road atlas, but would let fate take him where it willed, stopping at National Parks along the way.

 

Decided, Steve stopped to orient himself but found his feet had betrayed him, and he was only a few block from home already.  _Home._   Leaving home.  Because he could be honest with himself, no building could be home for him anymore unless it had Tony in it.

 

The lights were mostly out as Steve approached the front gate, scanning his ID and key code, and scaling the front steps.  The team tended to keep odd hours, as calls to assemble could come at any time, but it was very late.  Everyone would be in their rooms, if not asleep then at least getting ready for bed.  Steve wouldn’t be bothered, so he could pack a duffel bag and have it waiting by the door the second he’d handed in his resignation.

 

The main upstairs hall was dark save for the emergency lighting.  Steve faltered as he passed Tony’s door, seeing the light creeping out from the crack at the bottom, but he didn’t stop.  If Tony wasn’t burying his sorrows in the temporal thingy down in the workshop, that could be either a good sign or a bad one, but Steve didn’t intend to find out. 

 

He had his closet open and his army surplus duffel open at the foot of his bed when he heard the door open.

 

“And where are _you_ going?”  Tony leaned causally against the doorjamb, still wearing the same sweats as earlier.  “Running away isn’t Cap’s style.”

 

All the apologies Steve might have abandoned him.  “Yeah.  Well.”

 

“So?  Going on a trip?”

 

Tony’s mild tone incensed him, but Steve bit his tongue.  “I’m resigning my place on the team first thing in morning.  You don’t have to worry about a thing.  I’ll be out of here before the coffee maker finishes its first batch.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question.  _Where_ are you going?”

 

“I don’t know.  I just know I can’t be here.”

 

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes.  _Fondly._   Tony shouldn’t be doing anything _fondly_ anymore.

 

“Tony.  I – I drugged you.  I helped.  I can’t in good concise continue to willingly accept your hospitality and expect you to trust me on the field so I’m – “

 

“Leaving, yeah.  I got that part.  But why?”

 

“I – “ Steve dropped the slacks he was holding.  “This is your house.  I’m not going to stay here after what just happened.  So – I’m leaving.”

 

Tony shook his head and ran his fingers along the edge of the light-switch panel.  “Wish you wouldn’t,” he said, so softly that Steve almost didn’t hear it.

 

But he _did_ hear it.

 

“Tony – “ Steve sunk onto the edge of his bed.  “You don’t have to pretend.  Not for me.  If you want me gone, I’m gone.”

 

“And who said I want you gone?”  Tony was still leaning against the doorway, far too causally for Steve’s liking, hands shoved deep in the kangaroo pocket of Steve’s hoodie.  “You know, sometimes, for a paragon of righteousness and whatnot, you can be _really_ self-centered.”

 

“What - ?”  It was so far from what he’d been expecting.  “How am I being self-centered?”

 

“Oh, you know.”  Tony pushed himself off the doorjamb and wandered into Steve’s room.  “The whole insane guilt complex gets old, Steve.  You did, in your angsty fog, realize that you were not the sole perpetrator?”

 

 “I – “ and it did occur to Steve, now, that the whole thing had been Wanda’s idea, and everyone else had happily joined in.  He gulped.  “I didn’t put a stop to it.  I should have.  But I didn’t.  So.  I have to leave.”

 

“No one said you had to leave.  You could just . . . I don’t know . . . explain why you did it?  Apologize?  _Talk_ about it?  That’s what everyone else did after you stormed off in your snit fit.”

 

“Tony . . . .  I’m sorry.  I’m _so_ sorry.  And I’ve betrayed your trust again, and I know how much you hate magic and I – “

 

“You’re not getting off that easily.  That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Tony was standing right in front of him.  Too close.  Far too close for platonic best friends.  But this is what they _always_ did.  “You – _don’t_ want to talk about it?”

 

“Nah.  I wanted to talk about the part where you said you loved me.”

 

There we hands on Steve’s wrists, tugging.  He obeyed the pressure without even thinking about it, and there Tony was, stepping between Steve’s knees and looping his arms around Steve’s neck, gently massaging along the column of his throat.

 

“Don’t,” Steve tried to say firmly, but it came out as a whimper.  “Don’t do this to me.”

 

“Steve, look at me,” and he couldn’t _not_ do as Tony asked.  He ran his fingers along Steve temple, tenderly, so tenderly that Steve felt like he might die.  “Wanda explained it all to me.  She apologized and undid the enchantment.  She is _so_ grounded, but anyway.  Apparently everyone but us was in on the fact that this has been mutual for ages.  She said I was supposed to feel this sudden desire to seek out the person I love, to do everything I could to make them mine.  But . . . I didn’t notice.  Nothing felt different.”

 

“Nothing . . . ?”  Steve stared at him, uncomprehending.  “It – didn’t work?”

 

Tony laughed softly, and smiled.  Steve’s smile.  “No, it did.  It just didn’t get the expected result because, well, I’m _always_ trying to do everything to show how much I love you.”

 

And with hands still clasped firmly around Steve’s face, Tony bent down and fastened his mouth over Steve’s.

 

It took Steve a long minute to adjust.  Sure, he’d thought about kissing Tony, fantasized about it, but he’d never imagined it might actually happen one day.  Tony’s beard hair was a little scratchy, but he must have used conditioner or something to make the wiry hair softer.  He didn’t open his mouth lasciviously, just tenderly moved his lips like they had all the time in the world.  Like all he’d ever wanted to do was stand there and kiss Steve gently.

 

And it was like a switch flipping because Tony _was_ actually kissing him, of his own volition.  This wasn’t fake, Tony wasn’t playing along to make Steve feel better.  Tony was kissing Steve because he _wanted_ to, because really, there was no way he could have faked this.

 

Belatedly, Steve tried kissing back, though he felt clumsy and sloppy and slavish in comparison.  Tentatively, he reached up and cupped the back of Tony’s head and laid his other hand on Tony’s waist, daring to stroke the sliver of skin that was bared.

 

Eventually – Steve didn’t know how long – Tony broke the kiss.  “Well, that only took us a decade.  Guess everyone’s right to say we’re a pair of idiots.”

 

Steve couldn’t help it.  He threw back his head and laughed, really laughed, feeling years of anxiety and stress and loneliness fall away.  This . . . this could be real.  He could have this. 

 

“Tony, I _am_ really sorry that it happened this way,” Steve started, but Tony silenced him with another kiss.  It was quick, but still sent him reeling.

 

“Save it.  It’s a cute story.  We’re going to get roasted for it, but screw them.  With our hang-ups we could have gone sixty years not saying a word.  Just promise me no more love potions and we’re golden.  Or,” Tony gave him a leer.  “At least, no _surprise_ love potions.”

 

Steve snorted and buried his face in Tony’s chest.  Tony took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck and attempted to climb into Steve’s lap, but ended up seeming a lot more like straddling his hips. 

 

“Tony –“ Steve groaned, but Tony pushed him backwards so that he was lying on top of Steve.

 

“Do you want to take it slow?  We can take it slow.”  But then he pressed a series of whisper-soft kisses along Steve’s throat, and Steve didn’t see why he should punish himself even more.

 

“Hell _no,”_ he said, and it came out more like a growl, and Tony laughed, so happy and carefree.

 

Steve sat back up, Tony still happily straddling him.  They were both hard, but while Steve might once have shied away from such a sudden show of interest, this didn’t feel sudden at all.  How long had they known each other?  How long had Steve been in love with him?  It was new and exciting, but it was familiar too.  Like the day he’d walked into the mansion, it was like coming home for the first time in forever.

 

While Tony began enthusiastically rutting against him, he allowed his hands to fall lower, past the elastic waistband of Tony’s sweats.  Tony was commando at the moment, but oddly Steve didn’t have any issue with it.  Not like all the times Tony had be found armorless and Steve had cursed Tony’s preference not to wear anything under it.  His hands moved surely lower, the globes of Tony’s ass filling his hands perfectly, giving him new leverage to maneuver Tony as they rutted against each other.

 

Malleable wasn’t typically a word used to describe the man of iron, but he _was._   Tony was downright _bendy_ as Steve manhandled him up the bed so they could lay facing each other with their heads on the pillows.  Tony just _clung_ to him, hips never ceasing the drilling motion he made against Steve’s hip.

 

Idly, Steve wondered if they should try removing their pants and underwear (well, Steve’s underwear).  He desperately wanted to map every inch of Tony’s skin, catalog all the bumps and imperfections as _proof_ this really happened, that Tony was at one point naked in his arms and Steve had really gotten to see it all, _finally,_ but he just didn’t think he could pull away from Tony long enough to rid them of their garments.  This was too long coming, and the thought of _not_ being pressed exquisitely tightly against Tony was incomprehensible, an unhappy idea that Steve didn’t know how he’d dealt with for so many years.  Not seeing Tony in all his glory, not being free to touch and taste as he chose was like being taken from this new world he’d woken up in, too fast and too loud and so far beyond his wildest dreams, and shunted back in to a colder, darker, lonelier past.

 

 _There will be other times,_ a happy voice said in his head.  Other times to map and memorize.  Desperate as he was, he was already wanting this to end so he could start it again,  and again.  Slow and sweet, hot and dirty, quick and angry, languid and loving, any and every way Steve had wanted Tony, he could _have_ ten, twenty times over.

 

Tony could be _his,_ and he could be _Tony’s._   Forever, if they played their cards right.

 

Panting, Tony bolted upright, Steve desperate, following him.  But Tony just pushed Steve back down by laying his entire weight on Steve’s chest.  Now flat on his back with Tony astride him, Steve let his hands fall to Tony’s hips as he let Tony take charge, moving and grinding and fusing them together, beyond the burn of skin into something that seared their very souls.

 

Steve’s hips were on autopilot as he let his hands roam, all over Tony’s chest and back and face and arms and _everywhere._   For a lark, he dipped his hands back under Tony’s pants, groping and tracing the clenched ring of muscle there, making Tony twitch and whine, and Steve knew he would have fun with that, some time when he wasn’t dying where he lay.  Tony kept up his pace, the hot line of their cocks moving together through the layers of fabric giving a tantalizing texture and a forbidden, desperate quality to their coupling. 

 

Tony’s breath tasted like stale coffee and his sweat had that sour odor that Steve associated with hard work.  His hands were manicured but still bore tiny scars and burns and thick calluses.  His body hair was more grown out than what Steve remembered from the glimpses he’d had over the years.  Maybe he was overdue for a wax or something.  Compared to Steve’s, Tony’s skin was pockmarked and rutted and scarred.  He needed to trim his hair and beard, he needed to brush his teeth, he had a gross sweaty Band-Aid falling off his elbow.

 

Steve had never experienced anything more beautiful.

 

All the ugly and embarrassing was laid bare, with love and trust.  Tony knew Steve wouldn’t laugh, or make comments, or leave.  This didn't have the hazy perfection of fantasy and dreams, but the scars and lumps of reality.  This was _real_ , finally _real._

 

“This is so . . . you trust me.  Why do you trust me?” Steve slurred.  “I’ve never given you a reason to.  I always break it.”

 

Tony didn’t stop the relentless plow of their hips.  “Because you care that you broke it.  After all this time, after all we’ve been through, it had to happen.  I betrayed you and you betrayed me.  But no one’s betrayal kept me up at night like yours.  And no one ever lost any sleep over me.  Except you.  You mess up and you try again.  You don’t know how rare that is, Steve.”

 

He could feel the moisture welling in his eyes, and as Tony kissed his face, Steve let the tears fall.  Because he could finally be honest, wholly and truly honest in a way he never could before.  It had all come out, finally, and it was all good and Tony loved him and he loved Tony and he didn’t have to hide it anymore.

 

“Tell me again.  Tell me you love me.”

 

Tony’s voice was so quiet, but louder than anything Steve had ever heard.  “I love you.”

 

With a sob, Steve broke.  He didn’t break, he _shattered_.  And when the pieces came back together, he felt stronger than he had ever had.  Not physical strength, but emotional and mental.  Like he wasn’t alone, like he wasn’t outdated or broken.  Like he could be whole again.  Maybe more whole than he’d ever been.

 

Tony slumped over Steve, exhausted and finished, and Steve didn’t feel like he’d missed something by not seeing Tony’s orgasm.  He had time, he finally had time.  For the first time in his life Steve had the luxury of knowing that no matter what happened, he _would_ get to see Tony’s undoing.  He would get to witness it and cause it and experience it from every angle.  And it would all be _his_ and no one else’s, because now that he had Tony he very well wasn’t letting go.

 

Because he was Tony’s now, and Tony was his, and Steve was never, _ever_ going without Tony again.

 

They were both sweatier than after a workout or pickup basketball game.  The inside of Steve’s underwear was damp and sticky, rapidly cooling and he knew it would be horribly uncomfortable if he let it dry.  Tony was likely in the same position, except he had sweats instead of slacks on.  But Steve couldn’t bring himself to get up.  His head suddenly felt like it weighed eight tons.  Surely, something horrible would happen if he didn’t just lay there, feeling Tony’s body shake with each intake of breath.

 

“Aw, shit,” Tony mumbled into Steve’s neck.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Oh, nothing.  Just now when I say I hate magic it’s going to be a fucking lie.”

 

Steve couldn’t help himself.  He cracked up.

 

 

 

“We’re running low on eggs,” Tony complained from the fridge.

 

“So?  Add it to the list, we can get the shopping done today if Armageddon doesn’t decide to come early,” Steve answered, not tacking his eyes off the omelet in the frying pan.

 

“You guys eat too many eggs,” Tony grumbled as he went to check the coffee pot.

 

“They’re a good source of protein,” Steve told him as Jan peeked around the kitchen doorway.

 

“Is the coast clear?” she stage-whispered.

 

Steve rolled his eyes.  “Is everyone in the hall behind you?”

 

He heard a chorus of “No!”  Tony caught his eye and grinned.

 

“What are you guys doing?” Logan’s disgruntled voice came from a bit further away.  “Actually, don’t tell me.”  He strolled into the kitchen then stopped dead.  His nostrils visibly dilated.  “You two finally fucked,” he said in an accusatory tone.

 

“Hey Logan?  You know it’s really disgusting that you can do that, right?” Tony said conversationally, as everyone tripped over each other as they rushed into the room.

 

“They fucked!” Carol and Sam shouted simultaneously, high-fiving before rushing the plates of eggs and sausage Steve already had lain out.

 

 _"Finally,"_ Jan huffed.

 

Wanda lingered by the door while everyone else helped themselves to breakfast.  “So . . . you two are together now?”

 

“We didn’t really discuss our relationship status,” Tony said.  “Hey Steve, you okay with being my everything?”

 

“As long as you don’t mind being my entire world,” Steve answered airily, still fussing with the eggs.

 

“Oh my God, it’s even worse than I hoped,” Jan grinned.

 

Wanda gazed at the rest of the team.  "It was _me._   _I_ got them together."

 

She planted herself happily in Carol's lap, who rolled her eyes.  "You get eternal bragging rights, happy?"

 

"Very."  And the way Wanda kissed Carol was positively indecent.

 

Tony picked up a paper folder and brought it to the table along with the coffee.  He held it out to Wanda wordlessly.  With trembling fingers, she opened it and gave a muffled scream.  She dropped the folder and pulled Tony into a quick hug before snatching it up again and running over to the kitchen landline, dialing the numbers to activate the cards.

 

“See?  At least I can keep one of our kids happy,” Tony said to Steve as he went back to the plate he’d been picking from at the counter.

 

“One month _my ass_ , _”_ Carol said with her mouth full of toast.

 

 “Come on, now.  I mean, it’s really thanks to her that I got laid last night.  And this morning.”  And with that Tony reached out and smacked Steve’s left asscheek.  Steve was too blissed out to be pissed.

 

“Oh God.  Guys, I’m happy for you, but if you’re going to be banging in the kitchen, I might have to look in to transferring to the West Coast Avengers,” Sam groaned.

 

“I’d move right back into the Academy if I didn’t know this same shit was going down there,” Logan said.

 

Jan raised her eyebrows.  “Don’t tell me that Magneto slaps Charles’s ass in public.”

 

“Nah.  He can’t, see?  Wheelchair.”  Logan nodded like he’d made a point and went to pour more ketchup on his sausages.

 

 _“That’s.  My.  Dad.”_   Wanda’s fingertips were glowing as she paused over the keypad.

 

“Yeah, well.  Your dad’s kind of a slut.  How many siblings do you have?”

 

That gave Wanda pause.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think _he_ knows.”  Everyone waited for her to start laughing before they joined in.

**Author's Note:**

> Now, if only I could write up job applications and cover letters as easily as I write this garbage. 
> 
> Anywho, please comment, I am in need of validation, yadda yadda.


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